


Sparring

by missmishka



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pre-Movie, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the LJ <a href="http://manofsteelkink.livejournal.com/">manofsteelkink</a> prompt: <a href="http://manofsteelkink.livejournal.com/606.html?thread=6750#t6750">"Jor-El and Zod get all hot and sweaty practice-sparring, and then get all hot and sweaty in the locker room afterward."</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.

All citizens are required to complete the strength cycle during their youth on Krypton.  Regardless of the future encoded in the child’s genetics, the Council had long ago deemed it necessary that all Kryptonians be capable of defense; for their own safety and that of the whole planet. 

For most, though, that enter this stage, it is a mere formality.  Few citizens, male or female, with futures subscribed to duties such as art, cooking, cleaning, education or finance.  None, really, outside the Military guild actually _need_ this cycle.

Which is why it is so galling for Dru-Zod, destined to lead their peoples’ armies, to be paired with Jor-El, a brainy scientist already inventing without supervision of the Science guild.

Jor-El is two years his junior, yet he is taller and broader than Dru.  He is bred to study and create things, yet he is excelling in their lessons to beat and destroy things. 

Dru wants to hate the boy, but Jor makes that impossible.

For him, this is no competition; it is merely learning and applying knowledge and his is a brain that thrives of processing whatever new information it can. 

When Dru wins a sparring match with a fellow student, he stalks away from the mat with a snarl and determination to always walk away the victor. 

When Jor wins, he helps his fallen classmate up with a pat to the back and beaming smile to indicate that he’d taken it all in fun.

Except when they are set against one another.

Even before their first match, there are no smiles or helping hands between them; only a tension that is palpable enough to quiet any nearby conversations. 

The first match had ended with embarrassing speed with Jor-El blocking a roundhouse kick, tripping Dru then pinning him easily to the mat with the heel of his bare foot pressed against Dru’s Adams apple to discourage any attempt to move.  The moment their master called the match in Jor’s favor, the younger boy simply withdrew his foot and walked away; leaving Zod fuming on his back, fingers digging into the mat beneath him.

The second match had also gone to Jor due to his stature.  He’d hardly had to do anything to level Dru with a glancing collision between Jor’s shoulder and Dru’s forehead.

At seventeen, Dru is 5’5” to Jor-El already 5’9” height and a wiry 85 pounds to Jor’s 105.  Dru never once considers crying foul or unfair for these matches because he has gone up against the freakishly large Nam-Ek and come out the victor and there are females competing against males that are literally twice their own size and managing admirably. 

There is simply something about Jor-El that destroys Dru’s coordination and focus.

Their third match, nearly a year into the cycle, is a drawn out, brawling affair that draws blood from both participants and wild cries from the audience that the fight attracts.  The fight is declared a draw after three ignored whistles from their masters to try and restore the match to proper order.

As punishment for their unseemly display, they are reassigned to share quarters at the compound until such time as one or both of them complete the cycle. 

It takes their fourth match for Dru to come out the victor and he took no pride in the win because Jor-El had somehow gotten tangled in his own limbs and nearly brained himself on Dru’s updrawn knee.  Dru stalked away from that one cursing himself for the twist in his gut that he felt at seeing Jor sprawled unconscious on the mat to be assisted away by their trainers.

He spends as much free time in the gyms, building muscles that are still developing at their leisure on his body.

Sometimes he will encounter Jor-El there, but they never workout together.  Usually, Jor stays in their chambers working on studies of his own choosing and tinkering with the robot Kelex that he keeps in their room. 

Despite their having shared the same space for three months, Dru knows the robot better than he does Jor-El.

Their training moves on to incorporate weapons and Dru finds in natural talent in the wielding of staffs and clubs against his peers.  While they all lessen the force of their blows for mere demonstration to their masters that they are learning the proper moves and applications of instruction, matches between Dru and Jor continue to go against the grain.

They are each armed with a five foot wooden staff for their fifth match.  Well into a heated session, Jor’s staff slices through the air and savagely splinters Dru’s weapon in two. Their masters, familiar with how brutal their matches run, begin to blow their whistles at this point to end the bout, but neither combatant pays the shrill sounds any heed.   The shorter sticks in his hands gives Dru easier movement and he dives in to attack, easily fending off Jor’s attempts to trip him up.  Dru wins the match by whacking one half of his staff into Jor’s knee then flipping him backward to the mat with the slam of the other half into Jor’s exposed chest as he moved to bend toward his injured leg.  Jor laid there on the mat staring up at him with blazing eyes as Zod moved over him to hold the broken ends of his staff at Jor’s face and throat until Jor tossed aside his own weapon to concede defeat.

After that they begin learning edged weapons and the trainers cease pitting them against one another in class.

At eighteen, Dru-Zod is finally developing the stature that a future General should have.  His body stretches to the 6’3” that it will stay for the rest of his life and his chest expands, shoulders growing broad and strong.  Jor-El grows another inch in their time as roommates, but stays mostly the same in bulk.  At sixteen, he remains more brute in appearance than the brain he is destined to be.

They begin to speak, awkward and stilted, in the evenings in their chamber.

When it becomes clear that they will not be officially sparring again, they take it upon themselves to continue on their own.  None challenge them as they do one another and honing that kind of fierce edge that have together is the whole point of this stage in their formation. 

Kelex proves useful in gaining them access to the gym in the quiet hours after the others have all gone to bed. 

Their relationship seems to grow with each bruise they give each other.  For every blow they land, smiles seem to come easier between them.  Every physical take-down lowers whatever barriers have kept them from speaking in the months that they have roomed together.

Dru finds himself learning from Jor because the boy’s mind is like a sponge, apply the slightest pressure and a deluge of retained information came gushing out. 

There are nights when their bouts are like art; fluid, vital and savagely beautiful in their lethal intent.  Other nights, they do little more than scuffle and brawl like children.

Those are the nights that bring them together in ways neither of them had even imagined that they would be.

The tangle and grind of their grappling bodies arousing a lust for flesh, with no interest in drawing blood.  It is dangerous for them to act so wantonly in the gym, but they find themselves twined together and practically devouring one another’s mouths upon the cushioning of the mats.  Fingers move over skin moistened by the sweat of exertion, followed by tongue lapping at the addictive salt of that sweat.  It never seems to matter who pins whom on those nights, all that matters is that the victor use every ounce of his weight to press them together for their cocks to find the painfully intense pleasure of friction until they each find release in the shameless rutting of their bodies.

They move to the showers after one such night, tossing their soiled skinsuits in the laundry to be exchanged for fresh garments from the locker room.  They move to separate stalls to bathe and start the water without speaking, as seems to be their custom.

“Do you ever want to do more?”

Zod turns in surprise at the question and finds Jor staring at him with unconcealed _want_ as his large hands slowly soap his chest. 

“More?” he asks dumbly, staring himself as Jor’s hand glides downward with the flow of water over his torso.

Jor twists to cut off the spray from his shower and he moves across the tiles to push into Dru’s stall.

“More,” he raises his hands to tangle in Dru’s wet hair and pull their mouths together.

It’s the first time so much of their bare skin has touched and Dru pulls away with a shudder at the thrill he feels.  Jor pushes him back against the slick tiles, licking at his neck and jaw as if to drink the water from his skin. 

That would appear to have been the problem all along; from their first meeting, Dru has wanted _more_ from this boy.  More attention, more smiles, more conversation, more _contact._

There is only one more _more_ possible between them and, Rao be damned, Dru _wants_ it. 

He bends to reclaim Jor’s mouth, stabbing into it and finding welcome in the slick glide of Jor’s own tongue.  He reaches out blindly for soap to slick his hand with lather before moving to curl around Jor’s length; thick and hard in his grasp.

“In me,” he gasps, pulling away as his own erection grows painful.  “I want you in me.”

Jor pulls back in obvious surprise to stare at him for a moment before his face lights with the smile so rarely aimed at Dru. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

He runs a hand down Dru’s slick spine to curl into the meat of his ass and squeeze; pulling the cheeks apart to expose his hole to the rivulets of water sliding over his body.  He slicks his other hand with soap and moves his fingers to spread lather around the puckered entrance.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Dru hisses at the burn as one blunt finger begins to wriggle into him.

“I have a general idea of the basics,” his brow furrows in concentration as he tries to work his finger in deeper.  “The application of theory may need more study.”

“This,” Dru hisses again as the finger pulls outward then plunges stubbornly back in to go deeper than the first insertion, “may not be the best place for experimentation.”

“I like seeing you wet,” Jor murmurs; unclear if it is a protest to Dru’s words or just a random statement. 

His tongue laps again at the water trailing down Dru’s neck and he is tempted to agree to anything for the licking to continue, but then a second finger begins to push at his entrance and the discomfort demands a change.

“Your books,” Dru pushes at Jor’s shoulders to create space between them.  “You’ve read of _this_?”

“And seen pictures,” he tips his head back with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Dru should have known from his first reactions to this boy that Jor-El was to be his downfall.

“Show me,” he orders, shutting off the shower and maneuvering them out of the stall.

He moves quickly to the towels, claiming one for himself to begin briskly drying off while tossing a second to Jor to do the same.  His wet feet slap over the floor as he moves to the closet to locate two skinsuits in their sizes to put on for the race back to their room.  He pulls the garments impatiently from the hangers and turns to thrust one at Jor-El only to drop everything in his hands to the floor as Jor falls to his knees and moves to lick at the length of Dru’s penis. 

“What…?” he strangles out as his fingers go to Jor’s shoulders at the first rasp of hot, slick tongue over his flesh.  The saliva cools all too quickly on the trail left by that licking tongue and he has to lock his knees against the want to collapse when Jor closes his lips around the tip and _sucks_.

He falls back into the closet, grabbing at skinsuits to keep from ending up on his ass as his body shakes at Jor’s unexpected actions.

“I read-” Jor begins with a frown as he rises to help Dru steady himself.

Dru stands upright and slaps a hand over the other boy’s mouth to stop further words. 

“No more until _I read_ ,” he orders, keeping his hand in place until Jor nods his agreement.

They finish drying and dressing quickly before sending Kelex out to assure that the coast is clear back to their room.  When the robot signals them onward, they bolt back to their chamber like the misbehaving youths that they are, sniggering like fools as they collapse on Dru’s bed, momentarily distracted by their mad dash and increased daring.  Jor’s enjoyment is addicting and Dru cannot stop himself from pulling those curling lips to his own to lavish in the warmth Jor-El brings to him.

Jor grinds against him for a moment before pulling away.

“Kelex, away,” he orders, his voice husky as he issues the order without looking away from Dru. 

The robot floats away to some unseen corner of the room and Dru is glad Jor thought to order the invention away. 

_The idea of being watched…is one not to be thought of when he is so worked up._

Jor slips from the bed to rummage through the stacks of books on the shelves of his side of the room and Dru sits up with a frown when a thin book is thrown toward him without Jor even turning to aim it toward an empty space of the mattress.  A thicker, heavier volume quickly follows; landing with a thud right where his head had just been.  Jor pulls a third book from the shelf, stares at the cover for a moment before thumbing it open to scan a few pages before he flicks it shut and puts it back.  He moves to his dresser and pulls the top drawer open to rummage for something else and after a minute his hands come out with a worn, leather-bound book, a bottle of lotion and a strip of cloth.

“Which do you want first?” he asks as he comes back to settle on the bed.

Zod stare blankly at the three items Jor holds and he honestly has no idea how to answer that question.

“Do you want to read or look at the pictures?” Jor clarifies, putting the lotion on the nightstand, letting the cloth fall to the floor and placing the book on the bed between them.

With the heat of the moment rapidly dissipating, he finds himself still with no answer to the question as his brain suggests sleep to better be able to deal with Jor in the morning.

“This is my favorite,” Jor reclines on the bed without encouragement or response from Zod and reaches for the leather-bound book.  “It likely has no educational merit, but I found it in the libraries years ago and have read it in secret ever since.”  He moves the other books to the nightstand and scoots to face Zod on the bed as he opens the book to a dog-eared page and begins to read aloud. 

_“The invader is a brute in look and manner, but the slave in no position to protest as the man yanks the chain attached to his collar and uses it to pull him forward.  A heavy hand lands on the back of his head, shoving his face into the crotch of the man’s worn leather breeches._

_‘Take it out,’ he orders, legs spreading further for the slave’s shoulders._

_With fingers fumbling over a slight tremor of nerves, the young man obeys, untying the front of the breeches to loosen the material enough for a meaty cock to emerge._

_‘Suck it,’ the voice brooks to argument and the slave leans forward to comply only to be stopped by an iron grip on his jaw.  ‘If I feel so much as a scrape of teeth, I shall see each one pulled from your mouth then you will repeat this until you crave the thrust of me down your throat.’_

_The slave looks into the icy gaze of his captor and shudders as he nods his understanding of the threat.  He licks his lips before pointedly curling them inward to cover his teeth as he opens his mouth as wide as he can._

_The invader nods with satisfaction and uses his grip on the slaves face to guide his lips over the tip of his cock just as he thrusts his hips upward to shove unexpectedly deep into the slave mouth.”_

“What is that?!” Dru demands, tearing the book from Jor’s hands to read further with increasing incredulity. 

“It is called erotica,” Jor answers, not sensing or blithely ignoring Dru’s upset.  “It was a popular practice of the Literary guild before the Council deemed such writing frivolous and unseemly.  Few texts appear to remain in Kandor after the purges, especially those with homosexual entries, but I found this and one other that I lost when I moved from the last cycle to this compound.”

He moves closer to Dru with every word until their bodies are pressing together again, his mouth moving to the crook of Dru’s neck while his hands move to Dru’s chest and he slides his leg over Dru’s hip to angle their groins together.  His cock is hard and rigid length beneath the clinging material of his skinsuit and Dru’s body seems unable to resist responding to that sight, growing hard again just at the evidence of Jor’s arousal.

“You like _this_?” he asks as he skims over the pages; reading the rough and crude way in which the ‘invader’ takes ‘the slave.’

“When we were introduced,” Jor groans at some inner thought as his leg tightens to grind them together, “I saw you as _him_.  Everyone knows of the strength in the house of Zod and you’ve already created a legend for yourself.  I could image you ordering me to my knees, fucking my mouth even before I knew whether I’d even like to touch a cock other than my own.  I never thought…” his fingers curl into Dru’s pectorals and he bites down on the side of Dru’s neck as he thinks of whatever it is he’d ‘never thought’ before.

“You never thought what?” Dru asks, putting the book aside and arching into the bite of Jor’s teeth and fingers.

“That you’d want to be taken,” Jor practically moans in Dru’s ear before pushing him to his back and moving to straddle him.

Their mouths clash and Dru can’t help but shiver at the idea of _that._

 _To be **taken**_.

Skinsuits are desperately shed for bare skin and thoughts of knowing what to do fall to the wayside as Jor reaches blindly for the lotion and uses it to work his finger back into Dru’s ass.  There is no burn this time, only a stretch and fullness as the finger pushes in.  A second finger works its way in and then a third with mild discomfort that is easily put aside by Dru’s curiosity at how it will feel to be taken by Jor-El.

When the fingers are replaced by the blunt head of Jor’s penis caution nearly overtakes curiosity, but Jor-El is atop him, one hand braced on the bed with the other lotion-slicked and stroking Dru’s cock.  His mouth swallows any protest Dru might think to make, tongue stealing in to swipe away words and thought until all Dru can do is writhe and react.  The head pushes in quickly followed by the whole shaft and it doesn’t feel good, but it _feels_ and Dru, pushes and grinds into each impatient thrust as Jor-El pulls back to utter ragged bits of words that mean nothing yet seem to say everything to Dru.

He feels like he is breaking Jor-El’s brain in the same way his partner is breaking Dru’s body and it feels perfect and right that they should be like this; awkward, eager and learning together.  Even before Jor-El comes inside him, easing the tight burn of the penetration, Dru knows that he wants it again.  Even before Jor-El’s hand brings Dru to climax, he know that he _needs_ it again.

After that, when they spar in the darkened gym; if Jor-El wins, he reaches to help Dru up with a beaming smile on his face. 

When Dru-Zod wins, he reaches out to help Jor up, only to have the brat yank him down to the mat; kissing him until Dru can never be sure which of them is smiling more.


End file.
